It usually takes a little while for the man-made deadline of a “new year” to sink in for me.
Rarely do I open my eyes on January 1 and feel the significance of another rotation around the sun.
Today, as I really start to take inventory, I realize life looks a lot different than it did one year ago.
For starters, I’m sitting on a different couch in different apartment in a different city in a different country on a different continent with a different climate doing different work surrounded by different friends from different cultures.
The year 2016 was a grand experiment to see if “different” is really all that different after all.
As it turns out, it's not.
Life is softer and more malleable than we could ever imagine. It is possible to simply step out of the current storyline and into a new one. It is possible to surrender to the flow.
So here are some of the nouns -- the people, places and things -- that made the yearly shortlist.
The People
An ode to the new friends. They happily lounge in my tiny studio apartment watching “Frida” and debating whether to grow a unibrow or not. They say “yes” to spontaneous weekend trips, concerts by artists they've never heard of, jazz nights, flea markets and every social scheme in between. They bare their souls over wine, ramen and/or perogies on a weekly basis.
Each being from a different country, we solve more problems than the UN.
An ode to my old friends. They battle the 6+ hour time difference to keep in touch and are patient with my sporadic correspondence. They remind me just how weird and uncool I still I am. They promise to let me lead them on a Euro adventure soon.
An ode to my steadfast family. They are the reason I have adventure in my blood and love in my heart. From starting my own business to spontaneously moving to Germany, they support my ridiculous endeavors with humor and empathy. They are the "kin" in kindred spirits, as cheesy as it sounds.
An ode to my love, Gytis. Our relationship remains a sacred supernova of inspiration, freedom and divine romance.
The Places
San Francisco, USA
It's impossible not to fall head over heels for San Francisco every single time you visit (although she rarely falls in love with you back). SF's classic-meets-cool charm served as the eclectic home to a mini family reunion with my Aussie relatives.
We drank strong Irish coffee to warm us up before a bike ride across the Golden Gate bridge to Sausalito. I had goose bumps and windswept hair and felt as if I could pedal forever without tiring.
In Sonoma Valley, I sipped the most buttery chardonnay of my life. Like liquid gold, I can still imagine its velvety texture on my tongue.
Gainesville, USA
For almost six years, my heart kept rhythm with the slow, familiar pace of this swampy town.
Saying goodbye meant giving the retired horses a few last carrots, clinking glasses filled with Big Nose IPA, wandering the prairie grasslands in the humid summer sun and paying homage to a place that helped me grow up.
The Bahamas
I stood in the crystal Caribbean water while tiny tropical fish raced around my legs in a flurry of color. Every time their wispy little tails would brush my toes, I burst into giggles. In one hand I had a cold loaded Corona and in the other I had the warm hand of a gorgeous blond man.
Post-swim, an island local cracked open a fresh conch, pulled the meat out, squeezed lime juice over the top and handed us a bowl. Slightly sunburned and slightly drunk, I couldn't remember ever feeling anything but euphoria.
Amalfi Coast, Italy
Amalfi started with a nauseating ride on a bus smelling of sweaty tourists and Banana Boat sunscreen. I was convinced that more than half of the passengers never actually saw any of the sights with their own eyes, but rather watched it all from the screens of their digital cameras. “They will never look at the 312 photos from this vacation,” I remember thinking as I tried not to vomit.
When we came to a stop, I all but leapt off the bus. I was greeted by a stunning seascape framed by a mosaic of colored cliff-side houses. I took off my shoes, tied up my skirt and climbed down the rocks into the water. An old Italian man swimming nearby suggested I just take off my clothes and jump in.
We finished the day with cold gelato. I watched the white linen billow in the shop windows as the vanilla cream dripped down my arm. The bus became a distant memory.
Barcelona, Spain
Spending only one day in Barce meant eating so much palella that I had to sheepishly unbutton the top of my jeans while sitting in the pews at Sagrada Familia. Staring at the ceiling induced momentary hallucinations. I bowed my head and prayed for selfie sticks to disappear from the earth forever.
Washington D.C., USA
Seven-year-old Emma found her first trip to the nation's capital a bit blasé, so it it was time to revisit D.C. as an adult. Although not originally planned as one, the trip ended up being a poignant last hurrah before leaving America.
I was mesmerized as Steve walked me through the Franklin Delano Roosevelt memorial at night. He stopped rattling off D.C. trivia only long enough to curse under his breath at a swarm of kids playing PokemonGo in the memorial.
That same night, the eerie light, long shadows and heavy silence in the air at the Thomas Jefferson monument made me cry. It all felt significant. Hopeful, even, despite the divisive election looming ahead.
New York, USA
The weekend was characterized by homemade Italian food, a trip to the ER, mosquito bites and holding my grandmother’s wrinkled little hand on the porch every morning.
This time NYC was not quite the concrete jungle where dreams are made of, but it was certainly still a jungle.
Michiana Shores, USA
I entered the realm of Lithuanian love for a reunion tinged with subtle goodbyes.
I remember walking slowly through the woods until baby Merrick dozed off on our backs. We saw the deer bound away when they heard the crunch of leaves under our approaching feet.
I remember plunging into the icy waters of Lake Michigan as a makeshift self-baptism.
I remember eating salty dried sausages before watching the hazy orange sunset and wishing time would slow down.
Düsseldorf, Germany
I said "yes" to moving to Düsseldorf without being entirely sure where it was on a map. (Weak geography skills are quintessentially American, right?)
Upon arrival, I tumbled into a temporary living arrangement with five other recent expats -- China, Hungary, Ireland, Italy, Singapore (and later Canada). We spent two months sleeping too little, drinking too much and living more like squatters than like young professionals.
I've now settled into a place of my own -- a small, but elegantly designed flat inherited from Perri. The 50 shades of gray skies are difficult to get used to, but I'm finding Düss to be a cozy home base for some refined Euro vagabonding and self-exploration.
Gent, Belgium
With my work visa lost in the lumbering German bureaucracy (German efficiency is a myth), I bought a train ticket to Gent.
My hostel gifted me a group of lovely Frenchmen who took me under their wings for a night of dancing, champagne and my best elementary school French.
By day, I wandered cobblestone streets and watched families enjoy homemade gumdrops in the town square and couples stroll hand-in-hand.
I bought the “famous” Belgian mustard from a shop and sat alone dipping cheese into the jar. It was so sharp and spicy and glorious that my nose ran for an hour.
London, England
Two familiar faces greeted me when I stepped off the Tube. I was swept away to an East London record store for a night of cocktails made in slow motion, ‘70s-inspired dance moves and Rima’s effortless hosting. I wasn’t nearly cool enough to be there, but thankfully everyone let it slide.
The weekend faded into basement massages at the organic grocery store (not as creepy as it sounds), philosophy over tapas and a full 12 hours of sleep. By some miracle, I managed to leave London in better condition than I arrived.
Ibiza, Spain
“Don’t go to the office, just go straight to the airport,” I was told.
The annual retreat for trivago was a dizzying blur of dancing until sunrise, desperately trying to remember names and ordering the next mojito while still holding the last.
Ibiza is a place where moderation never starts and pool parties never end. Hello, company culture shock. (P.S. Don’t drink the water.)
Copenhagen, Denmark
My birthday weekend was the Danish equivalent of herding cats. With six new friends in tow, all from different countries, we starkly stood out in the sea of aesthetically perfect Viking-esque faces.
The noteworthy moments were as follows: addressing the unclaimed suitcase on the plane, spending entirely too much time in a scarf store, thrifting impractical leather shorts, finding Nina Simone-Cook asleep at the club, floating in a hot tub in the canal, spotting Hannah’s rogue foot and buying a room temperature Danish right before they pulled the hot ones from the oven.
Tampa, Florida
See “A Christmas Plane Ticket” below.
The Things
The emotional saga of moving always follows a similar narrative for me.
I start the process of packing with one breezy thought: “This shouldn’t take too long.”
Shortly after, I’m in disbelief, wading through stuff that hasn't seen the light of day in years.
Next, I’m oddly offended by the consumerism, as it was a stranger, instead of myself, that snuck in and crowded the place with extra junk.
Finally, I’m plagued with environmental guilt as I begin a full throttle purge.
Moving life from Gainesville to Germany was an extreme lesson in minimalism. Contrary to the American consumerist mantra, living with less is liberating.
Of the edited ownership, a handful of possessions stand out.
Yogi Haven Mat
A gift from Haven Ochs
Haven is one of those people you meet and wonder to yourself “How did she end up so perfect?” She’s gorgeous, yes, but that pales in comparison to her inner aesthetics. She’s a kind soul with a generosity for the ages. She has this coziness about her that makes hanging out with her feel like home, whether you’ve known her for 5 minutes or since preschool (like I have).
She’s channeled all those magical ingredients into a new company called Yogi Haven, where she creates custom printed yoga mats. I was lucky to be gifted one before my Deutschland departure and it has become a comforting reminder of my serene soul sister across the pond.
“The Prophet”
A gift from Gytis Garsys
I could’ve easily dedicated a whole suitcase to books, but alas, sweaters are crucial to survival in these parts of the world. Only one book made the cut: a simple, but poignant book of poetry written by Khalil Gibran. Every read cultivates new meaning and every glance at the cover reminds me of my faraway love.
A John Tilton Mug
A gift from Claudia Bell
Created by the world renowned potter John Tilton (and gifted by the world renowned friend Claudia Bell), this mug is a portal to the lush, green field in the woods where I stumbled into meditation, Mickey and the mighty power of surrender.
“What I’m working toward is that kind of perfection that makes a pot seem born, as if it had naturally emerged whole from the depths of the universe; not something made or contrived.”
A Christmas Plane Ticket
A gift from my parents
I stepped off the plane in Tampa, Florida as a vitamin D-deficient ghost who couldn’t speak a word of German besides “entschuldigung.” I was welcomed back into a setting of sun, beaches and an outpouring of love from my parents, friends and partner. I became infatuated with the color of the landscape at home - something I had always taken for granted. The teal of the sea, the vibrant green of palm trees, the cerulean skies. I watched dolphins swim playfully next to our boat, reveled in the toasty brown color of my shoulders and felt my gratitude for home deepen immeasurably. It took leaving the peninsula’s warm embrace to truly appreciate it again.
